Got Caught In The Act - Part 1

I should have locked the door. Or at least closed it all the way. You would almost think I wanted him to catch me...

* * *

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask Nick as I try to slide my chair under the desk to hide my boner.

"The fuck?!? Bro that's a picture of me! And you're..." Nick's pissed. I notice that he's wearing a tank top and gym shorts, so he's about to leave for his run. "Dude!"

My hand shoots out to the laptop with the image of Nick, shirtless and slightly sweaty with that stupid gorgeous grin of his, and I slam the screen shut. My chest is heaving under my baggy shirt, and my eyes are wide with panic. "I know that's you. I have eyes," I answer, trying to sound indignant.

I spin my chair around to face Nick, pulling my shirt down over my thighs like I'm trying to cover something. My voice comes out too fast, too high when I go on. "It's not- look, I was just- it was an accident. The photo was in my Instagram history and I didn't mean to click it, it just- it loaded, and I didn't close it right away, that's all. That's literally all."

I laugh, but it comes out broken and wet. "You're gonna be late for your run or whatever, right? You should go. I'm fine. Everything's fine." My knee bounces under the desk. I won't look at Nick's chest.

"I deleted that photo." Nick crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. "My hair was all fucked up so I took it down..." I can see him staring at the boner under my t-shirt. "Talk. Confess, bro..."

My voice drops. "Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about." But my leg is bouncing faster. I grab the armrests of my chair with both hands like I might fall out of it if I don't hold on tight. "Why are you standing there like that? You're making it weird." A pause. My throat bobs.

"You know..." Nick uncrosses his arms and stands up straight, his hands in his pockets. "It's fucked up as hell, but I feel kinda flattered? Like... that you were jerking it, to a picture of me. So I'm not sure which of us is the weirdo..."

"Flattered? You're- you're flattered? Bro, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I stand up abruptly, and that's a mistake. The t-shirt tents out in front of me, obvious and obscene, and I realize it a half-second too late. I sit back down so fast the chair rolls back and hits the desk. "I wasn't jerking off to it. I was just- looking at it. For like a second. People look at stuff, Nick."

I run both hands through my messy dark hair and exhale hard. "You should go on your run. Seriously. I'm tired and you're being a jerk about this." But my eyes betray me. They drift just for a fraction of a second down to Nick's bare arms, the way the tank top stretches tight against his chest. Then back up. Fast. "Stop looking at me like that."

"So just how gay are you, dude?" he asks me. "Like on a scale of 1 to 10."

I don't say "I'm not gay" or "That's not what that is." I just deflect. "You're really gonna stand there in that fucking tank top asking me how gay I am? That's what you're doing right now?" I stand slower this time, like I've accepted that hiding it is pointless. The tent is right there. I don't sit back down. My eyes lock onto Nick's and since I'm already busted, I decide to press my luck. "... Why? You curious, Nick?"

His pause is shockingly brief. "Maybe a little. I just told you that it's kinda hot that you were jerking off thinking about me..." Nick looks right at the boner tenting my pants. "So from 1 to 10. What are you? Because I'm probably like... a 4?"

"A 4. You're a 4." I repeat it because it sounds absurd coming from the straightest boy I know. "So what, you've thought about guys before? Like... what, you jerked off to some frat-boy-initiation porn and felt a little something? Is that what you'd call a 4?"

He just stares at me with that same grin from the picture. My voice drops to something almost conversational. "I'm not gonna lie. I'm like a... 7? Maybe an 8..."

Nick sits on the edge of my bed and leans back on his arms. "If you're a 7 or 8... Does that mean you've actually done stuff? Like with another guy?"

My voice gets quieter. "I've messed around. Hand stuff. Some oral." I pause. "Nothing... all the way, if you know what I mean." I push off the desk and take a step. I'm close enough now that Nick could reach out and touch me. "You know you keep looking at my dick, right? That's pretty fuckin gay!"

"Why are you being so uptight?" Nick looks right at me and spreads his legs a little wider to get comfortable. "I'm sitting on your bed while you have a boner, after I caught you jacking it to my picture, and I'm asking you about doing gay shit. And I told you I'm a 4 out of 10. I'm obviously interested..."

Something about Nick being the one to bring up numbers, being the one to sit on the bed and spread his legs like that, flips a switch and I feel a little less awkward.

I take another step. I'm standing right in front of Nick now, close enough that if he looked down, the tent would be inches from his face. I reach down and grab the hem of my shirt. Pull it over my head in one motion. I'm not bulky, but I'm defined. A trail of dark hair below my navel disappears into my sweatpants. "I think you stayed because you want to see what a gay guy would do to you." I tilt my head, my voice dropping to a murmur. "Am I wrong?"

I can't believe my eyes when I see him actually reach his hand out. He places his palm flat on my belly, right over the trail of hair, as if that isn't the weirdest thing in the world. "I never touched a guy like this before. Is it okay?"

My stomach muscles contract under Nick's palm and I hiss through my teeth. "Yeah. It's okay." The words come out as a sigh. I've been imagining this exact scenario for months and now it's happening.

My chest rises and falls faster now. My sweatpants hang low on my hips without the t-shirt hiding the waistband, and the top of my black boxer briefs peeks out.

I don't move. Don't breathe. Just stand there letting Nick's hand sit on my stomach. "You have soft hands." It comes out before I can catch myself. "I mean- whatever. That's not- fuck." I laugh, but it's shaky. My hips shift forward and the tip of my dick presses against the inside of my sweatpants. "You can go lower if you want." My voice is barely a whisper. "Or higher. I don't care."

"You care a lot, actually." Nick smiles like the devil himself and slides his hand around, pressing against my flesh. He's staring at his own hand. "Wow. Okay..." He catches his breath and looks up at me, as if he's just realizing there's a person attached to the body he's touching. "So. I wanna try stuff. I've thought about trying stuff but I was always scared. I just dismissed it like it was a phase, you know?" A shiver runs through him. I can feel it in the trembling of his hand against my stomach. "I never told that to anybody..."

My own hand comes up slowly and settles on top of Nick's head and my fingers thread loosely through his hair. "I get it. I know what that's like. The dismissing thing." My voice is gentle now despite my raging hard-on. "Like you convince yourself it's nothing because the alternative is too scary to look at." My hand slides from Nick's hair to the side of his neck. My thumb rests against his pulse point, and I can feel how fast it's going. "I did that for two years. Then I stopped, and now I fucking love it." I lean closer. "What are you scared of right now?"

"That I'm gonna love it, too," Nick says. Then he withdraws his hand and looks at the floor. "You really loved it, huh? After you finally tried it with a guy?"

"Yeah. Loved it." I say it simply, no hesitation, no deflection. Just the raw truth sitting between us. "You wanna know what it's like?" I hook my thumb into my waistband. I don't pull. I just hold it. "Or do you wanna keep sitting there telling me you're scared while your eyes keep dropping to my dick?"

"Stop trying to act so tough, bro," Nick says. "Remember that I walked in on you jacking it to a picture of me. A shirtless picture, not even a naked one. Just shirtless." He straightens up and takes control as he pulls off his tank top. "You have it bad for me. We both know that, so let's stop dancing around it." He looks right at me. "Wanna try jerking off to the real thing?"

Nick's tank top hits the floor. My eyes drop to his bare chest and stay there. I'm looking at the exact thing I was looking at on that screen a few minutes ago. Except now it's real, it's warm, it's breathing, and it's attached to the person who just called me out for having it bad for him.

My eyes trace every line and curve of muscle on Nick's torso, committing it to memory in case he decides to take this away from me. "... Take the shorts off too?"

"Sit next to me. We can take our pants off at the same time," Nick says.

I look straight ahead at the wall. "Okay. Same time." I hook both thumbs into my waistband. My thumbs are trembling. "On three or do you want a countdown like a fucking rocket launch?"

"One... two... Three," Nick counts. We both slide our shorts and underwear off. We're both hard and our cocks look to be about the same size, except Nick is circumcised and I'm not. And Nick is shaved clean and I'm hairy, but trimmed.

"You're uncut!" he exclaims with a dopey grin. "I've never seen one in real life..."

I look down at myself, then at Nick, and let out a breath that's half-laugh, half-madness. "You're- you're excited about that? That's what you're fixated on right now?!?"

We're sitting side by side on the bed, completely naked. The absurdity of it hangs in the air, two friends, dicks out, comparing. My foreskin is retracted slightly from how hard I am, the head peeking out just enough to be visible, slick at the tip. My bush is thick but trimmed around the edges, dark hair trailing up my stomach. Nick's is smooth and bare, clean lines, everything on display. I keep glancing sideways. I shift on the bed and my thigh presses against Nick's bare skin. I don't move it away.

"You're shaved. Like... all the way." I say it like an accusation. My eyes land on Nick's circumcised, mushroom-shaped head and stay there. "That's really fucking gay! Straight guys don't do that..."

"I shave because two different girls said it was hot as fuck! So it's not gay!" Nick reaches over and presses his finger against my foreskin like he's touching a foreign object. He moves the finger and the foreskin moves with it. "Whoa!! It moved..."

My foreskin slides under Nick's fingertip and I watch his face while he does it. It moves easily over the slick head underneath, and when Nick presses slightly, the skin bunches up to reveal the wet tip before sliding back over. My thighs tense every time the foreskin catches on the ridge of my cockhead. My breathing goes shallow and ragged. I'm gripping the bedsheets with one hand, knuckles white.

"Yeah, it moves," I grunt. "That's how it works, dude. And you don't have to keep touching it like some fucking science project."

My hand is hovering, fingers slightly curled, an inch from Nick's smooth, circumcised shaft. I look at his face, asking permission without words.

"Oh, uh yeah," he mumbles. "You can touch me or whatever..." Nick seems thoroughly distracted. "So the skin on your dick just moves? Like a sleeve?" He's clearly fascinated by my foreskin, as if he'd assumed that all dicks worked exactly the same as his own. He holds the shaft between his thumb and forefinger and watches the skin slide over the head and back. "So weird..."

The second Nick's fingers wrap around my shaft, my neck arches back and my throat stretches tight.

"Yeah, it- ah- it moves like a sleeve." Every time Nick's thumb drags across the frenulum, my foreskin catches and my hips buck involuntarily. Precum is flowing freely now, making the slide easier, wetter. My hand is still hovering over his cock. I haven't touched him yet. "Fuck, you're gripping it pretty tight for someone who's never touched a dick that isn't his."

I finally move my hand and my fingers make contact with Nick's bare shaft, then the smooth, circumcised head, slick and warm. I wrap my hand around it and my breath catches.

"Jesus, you're hard. Like... really hard." I start stroking. Slow. Testing. "This doesn't feel gay to you?"

"Oh, it's gay as fuck!" Nick says with another dopey grin. "That's the point. I'm experimenting. I just didn't know the whole foreskin thing would be such a big deal for me..."

"A big deal? You're literally stroking my foreskin like you're trying to figure out how a fucking Rubik's cube works!"

He gathers himself, sits up, and lets go of my dick while I hold his shaft loosely. "Okay. So you've done stuff with guys before. So you know how cocks work. I thought I knew, but yours is so different from mine..."

The precum on Nick's circumcised head is smearing against my palm. I twist my wrist on the upstroke. "How's that feel? My hand on you?"

"Okay. Yeah, it feels good. I like where this is going!" Nick leans back on his arms and spreads his legs, watching my hand. "You can play with it. I wanna watch a guy play with me." He gets an idea and his head jerks up to look at me. "Then you gotta let me play with yours more!"

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To be continued!